“I think the stars are perfect.” I stop to entwine my arms around him, gazing up into his eyes. “I really do love you, you know. I’m trying. It’s just...hard.”
Adam nods slowly as he bends down to meet my lips, literally sweeping me off my feet as we kiss on the sidewalk in the middle of loud drunks and rambunctious teens out past their curfew. For a moment I forget that he’s sick and giving me no other choice than to let him die and get caught up in the feel of him.
With our lips still attached, I hold my hand out to grab the next available taxi. We stop long enough to get in and give the driver directions to our hotel before we’re all over each other in the backseat.
I’m too busy losing myself in the idea of getting as much of Adam as possible to care that we’re most likely being watched by the old man driving. I crawl into Adam’s lap, thrusting my tongue deeper into his mouth, rocking my hips above him. I feel his hardness through his cargo shorts and position myself directly over it, letting his pulsating tip press up through my cotton panties. His hands, hidden underneath my dress, slide up to stroke my butt checks, guiding me as I continue pushing him up as high as the stiff material of his shorts will allow.
Adam’s lips break away to trail down my neck and back up. “God, I want you,” he whispers against my ear. “Every inch of you.”
I tip his head up to face me, stealing long, breathless kisses before stopping to stare at him, holding his face in my hands. My heart shatters with the sincerity of his beautiful gaze. Beyond the exhaustion and wear to his body, he looks up at me with so much love and expectation that I don’t know how I could ever stand to be in another relationship again. Even after he’s gone. He’s all mine, only I don’t get him for long. I kiss him again.
If time was a thing you could bottle away to forever place on a shelf to be admired, this would be a moment I’d never want to forget. I can’t shake the gut-wrenching feeling that everything will go downhill from here.
The next morning we’re both incredibly glum, only laughing when we apply lotion to our fresh tattoos in campy unison. Adam doesn’t offer to take my bags, nor do I expect him to. He’s so drained I have to resist the urge to help him back into the pickup. He’s so quiet and still as we drive out of the city that I lean over to check for a pulse. At first I’m sure he’s dead until I find it. It’s slow, but there.
At the first available rest stop, I race out of the pickup to call Theo, sobbing so hard I can hardly form any words.
“Theo, he’s so weak! I think he’s...I can feel him leaving me! Jesus, I’m not ready for this! I don’t know what to do with him! A minute ago I had to check for a fucking heartbeat!”
“Jewels, it’s going to be okay,” Theo coos from his end, waiting until I’m calm enough to continue. “Listen. I’m going to find the airport nearest you and fly you two back here for the weekend. There’s a big party tomorrow night I can’t miss for work, but you can tag along. The three of us will go out tomorrow, have a good time, and try to talk some sense into Adam together on Saturday. I’ll help you get through this.”
“You’re going to just ‘fly us out’?” I repeat, brushing at my tears. “Who does that?”
“Don’t worry about that, I can afford it. I’ll find a way for you to pay me back later.”
Despite the teasing in his tone, I recognize Theo for the amazing friend he’s becoming and thank my lucky stars we met.
It isn’t until I’ve had two shots of Patrón and four beers that I realize I haven’t taken my depression meds in a couple days. By then I’m on top of the world—or rather on the top of an elite high-rise apartment overlooking the twinkling lights of Manhattan with the man I love at my side. He’s weak, but he’s alive.
The party buzzes with low jazz music paired with excited conversations of the guests wearing trendy cocktail dresses and designer button downs. Theo only introduces us to a few of the other party-goers, but I recognize more than one from a distance. We’re partying with some of Hollywood’s big shots. I start to feel wildly out of place in my dress from the clearance rack.
Adam doesn’t know about the shots, of course, but from the look in his eye I think he’s on to me. “You alright?” he asks, slipping his arm around my waist. He’s the one who looks like he needs someone to hold him up.
Our last round of wild sex the night before took a lot out of him. But every touch lights me on fire, every look sets me ablaze with desire. I want more of him. I almost feel remorse over my hormones that have taken control of my psyche when I drag him close, wrapping my arms around his neck and covering his mouth with a probing, telling kiss.